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d-z20 · 1 month ago

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Neighbourly Care part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go home for Thanksgiving and who else joins your family but none other than their wonderful neighbours Agatha and Rio

-OR-

You struggle to make it through the meal and so does Agatha, but she "accidentally" spills her drink which means you fuck in the bathroom :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, fingering, oral, mention of humiliation kink

Words: 3.5k

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND KUDOS!!! to celebrate here is a bonus seasonal chapter :D Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate, and to those who don't: enjoy the chapter anyway ;)

A Thanksgiving To Remember

As the morning light filters through the blinds, the hotel room is dim and quiet. You wake up slowly, feeling warm and content, your body still tingling from last night. You shift slightly, realising that Rio is already awake. She’s sprawled comfortably on her side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand absently stroking your arm. Her eyes flicker open as she senses you waking, and she smiles at you lazily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Rio hums, stretching and running a hand through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good thanks, how about you?" You smile, feeling the pull of her easy, bright energy. Was she always so upbeat in the mornings?

“I’m great. But she,” Rio gestures toward Agatha with a playful smirk, “isn’t a morning person.”

Behind you, Agatha just grumbles in response, muffling her face into the pillow and pulling you closer into her. Rio leans over, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushes Agatha’s hair from her face. “C’mon, darling, I’ll make you coffee,” she offers sweetly, but you can hear the hint of a challenge in her tone.

Agatha groans again but finally starts to sit up, stretching with an audible crack in her spine. “Fine, fine,” Agatha mutters. “But it better be good, or I’ll go back to sleep.”

Rio laughs and gets up to make coffee, leaving Agatha to rub her eyes before looking at you. You share a quiet moment, the lingering energy from the night before making the air between you feel heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Rio busies herself in the kitchenette in the corner of the room, Agatha grabs her phone and starts swiping through it. Not wanting to bother her, you reach for your phone too. You’re happily scrolling when a notification pops up

MILF 1 has added you to the group chat.

MILF 1 named the group chat Check-In Group

MILF 1: There. You can’t ignore us now, sweetheart.

You’re smiling at your phone when you feel Rio standing next to you, coffee in hand

“What are you smiling at? Not another potential date, I hope." She meant it as a tease, but you can hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

“No,” you chuckle. “In fact, it’s just the opposite; Agatha is making sure that never happens again.” You tilt your phone to show Rio the notifications.

She looks down at your phone, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “Why do you have Agatha saved as MILF 1?” she asks, raising her voice loud enough so Agatha hears.

You laugh nervously and quickly glance at Agatha, who’s sitting up now and lazily sipping her coffee, her attention on the two of you. She raises an eyebrow at you, her eyes glinting with something more than just curiosity.

“Well?” Rio prompts, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You squirm under their combined gazes, feeling both flustered and slightly turned on. “It’s just the truth,” you admit sheepishly, your voice dropping as you fidget with the comforter. “She is a mom, and, well, I do want to f—” You stop yourself just in time, your cheeks heating as you look anywhere but at them.

Rio raises an eyebrow, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “Oh? And what am I saved as?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Please tell me it’s not just MILF 2.”

Your face goes hot, and you start fiddling with the comforter in your lap. “It might be.”

Rio bursts into laughter. “You really couldn’t think of something more creative?” she asks, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Agatha’s smile never fades, but her eyes darken, and she stands up, stretching slowly. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to go shower,” she says, cutting through the playful moment. She gives Rio a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

As Agatha disappears into the bathroom, Rio sets her coffee cup on the nightstand and leans closer to you, her expression shifting. There’s an undeniable heat in her eyes as her lips brush against yours in a kiss that’s possessive and urgent. “So you like to fuck us, hmm?” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm as it fans over your skin.

Your breath catches as her words sink in, and your body reacts almost instantly, a tingling warmth pooling low in your belly.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind Agatha, Rio doesn’t waste a second. She pushes you back against the pillows, her touch both gentle and commanding. The electricity in the air is palpable as her lips find yours again, her kiss deepening with every passing second.

You moan softly when her hand trails down your side, grazing your hip before slipping under your waistband. She pauses just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re already so excited for me. Do you like it that much when I humiliate you?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver.

Before you can answer, Rio presses her lips to yours again, cutting off any reply as her hand moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless. Her touch is slow at first, teasing, as though she’s savouring every little sound you make in response. The tension between you builds rapidly, and the air is charged with unspoken need.

Somewhere in the background, you faintly register the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Rio pulls back just enough to mutter against your lips, her voice low and dripping with desire. “I’ve got about ten minutes until she's done showering.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the hunger in her tone unmistakable. You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet her gaze. “I don’t think we’ll need that long anyway,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of her intensity.

Rio smirks, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your answer. She wets her fingers with your arousal before burying two of them inside you, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you completely. “So eager for me already,” she murmurs, her voice both teasing and utterly dominating. Her words make your breath hitch, the hint of humiliation in her tone only heightening your anticipation as she begins to fuck you.

There is no slow buildup, and Rio is mercilessly fucking you in seconds, pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even know you could make; you’re pretty sure that the whole floor can hear you now.

She starts to pump her fingers faster, and you can hear how wet you are. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before soothing it with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Shhhhh, baby, try and keep quiet for me; Aggie can’t know what I’m doing.”

The idea that this sex was potentially forbidden pushes you over the edge, and you grip on to her shoulders for dear life as your orgasm comes crashing over you. You pull Rio into a messy kiss to try and dampen your moans as you wind down. She pulls her fingers out, humming with pleasure as she sucks them clean.

“Fucking hell,” you pant.

Rio looks at you with a devilish grin.

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolts you out of the haze. Agatha steps into the room, towel-wrapped and hair damp, her expression calm as she surveys the scene. Rio immediately freezes, her eyes widening slightly like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

But Agatha doesn’t say a word. She simply raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, before turning back to the closet to finish getting ready. Her calm, collected demeanour somehow leaves you even more flustered than being caught outright.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. After Agatha and Rio get you dressed, they drive you back to your college apartment; their voices light and playful. “Remember to actually text us this time,” Rio teases as she pulls up to the curb. “We’re not just for weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, text us, sweetheart,” Agatha adds with a soft smile. “We like hearing from you.”

“I will,” you promise, glancing at your phone, already thinking of what you were going to text them.

—

Later that evening, you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone when you notice a new notification in your group chat with Agatha and Rio.

Check-In Group

MILF 2 changed the name to MILFs Anonymous

MILF 1: Rio!

MILF 2: Come on, just let me have this one thing :(

MILF 1: Fine, but Y/N, change our contact names now please

You roll your eyes at Rio’s antics but do as you’re told, not wanting to dissapoint Agatha; you still feel a bit guilty for having sex with Rio this morning.

—

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting with them more and more. The conversations flow easily—Agatha constantly checking in on you, always asking if you’ve eaten or if you’re doing alright. It’s sweet, in a way you didn’t expect, but it’s comforting. Rio, on the other hand, can’t resist sending her terrible dad jokes, which, despite your best efforts, always make you laugh.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 15:48

Rio: What do you call a group of crows that stick together?

You: Oh God, please stop

Agatha: Seriously. You’re not funny

Rio: VelCrows :)))

Agatha: Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you

Rio: It’s because I fuck you like there’s no tomorrow ;)

~ 21:17

Agatha: *click to open image*

Agatha: Huh, you don’t look like you’re doing much fucking to me

You drop your phone with a loud clatter. You were not expecting to see a picture of a Rio naked and tied to the bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit and by the looks of it, she had been like that for some time. You spend the rest of your evening fucking yourself to that image. Each time you think you’re done and can't cum any more, the image pops into your mind again, and you start to imagine all the things they would do if you were with them, and before you know it, your hand is back between your legs.

—

Thanksgiving break arrives faster than expected, and the familiar comfort of your parents' home feels like a welcome change from the chaos of college life. You arrive in the early afternoon, greeted by the warm aroma of roasted turkey and spiced pies wafting from the kitchen. It’s a little odd being home after everything that’s happened with Rio and Agatha, knowing they live just next door. You wonder if you’ll see them during your visit.

It turns out you don’t have to wonder for long.

A knock at the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and your dad answers with a cheerful, “Agatha! Rio! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Your stomach flips.

You appear in the hallway just in time to see them stepping inside, Agatha holding a neatly wrapped gift basket and Rio carrying what looks like a bottle of wine. They’re dressed casually but still look effortlessly gorgeous; Rio is dressed in a breezy striped blue shirt that’s half tucked into her jeans. The loose fit of the shirt somehow adds to her charm, her confident movements making it clear she’s completely at ease. Agatha, on the other hand, is the picture of sophistication, her fitted blazer in a warm mustard hue paired with a turtleneck and slacks giving her a commanding presence that turns heads—even in such a casual setting.

“We just wanted to drop this off,” Agatha says, her usual polished tone soft and warm. “A little something for the holiday.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’re not just dropping it off,” your mom insists, appearing behind your dad. “You’re staying for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you did for this one when they got locked out in the rain.”

Your heart nearly stops. You glance at Agatha, who meets your wide-eyed look with a calm, knowing smile.

“Really, it wasn’t any trouble,” Agatha says smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, we could’ve just let them in with the spare key you gave us, but... well, we thought they might prefer a warm bed and some company at ours instead.”

Your cheeks burn as Rio chimes in, her grin bordering on wicked. “And they didn’t seem to mind one bit.”

Your parents laugh, completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the exchange, but you feel like you’re about to combust. Agatha and Rio both throw you brief, pointed glances before following your mom into the dining room, leaving you standing there trying to steady your racing heart.

—

Dinner starts off innocently enough, but the air feels charged in a way you can’t quite explain. You’re hyper-aware of Rio sitting across from you and Agatha beside you, their presence consuming all your focus.

Rio’s long fingers wrap elegantly around her wine glass as she listens to your dad talk, but her gaze keeps drifting to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk every time your eyes meet. Meanwhile, Agatha takes every opportunity to lean close, brushing her arm against yours under the guise of reaching for the breadbasket or whispering a sly comment in your ear that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs at one point, her tone dripping with amusement. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, biting your lip to keep from saying something that would give you away. Rio catches the exchange and arches an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the two of you knowingly.

It only gets worse as the meal progresses. Rio’s foot grazes yours under the table, lingering just long enough to send a thrill up your spine.

When Agatha pours herself another glass of wine, she tilts the bottle toward you with a raised brow, silently asking if you’d like more. You nod, not trusting your voice. As she leans over to fill your glass, her lips brush your ear so faintly it feels like a whisper of air. “Behave, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice so low and intimate that a shiver runs down your spine.

You clench your thighs and glance up at her wide-eyed, but she only pulls back with that same subtle smile, her expression calm and unreadable.

You do your best to stay composed, but your mind is spinning. Every touch, every look, and every smirk makes it harder to focus on anything else.

Then, as if the universe wants to test your resolve further, Agatha “accidentally” spills a bit of wine on her sweater.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” your mom says quickly. “Y/N, show Agatha where the bathroom is, and grab her a clean top from the laundry room, will you?”

You nod, your pulse quickening as you rise from the table. Agatha follows you down the hall, her calm exterior betraying nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating off her like heat. You scurry off to grab Agatha a clean top and quickly show her to the bathroom.

The moment you’re alone in the room, she closes the door behind you with a soft click and turns to face you, her expression shifting from composed to utterly predatory.

“Finally,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her voice low and thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you all evening?”

Your breath catches as she backs you against the counter, her hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against her. Her lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss hungry and demanding, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads through your entire body.

“Agatha, we—” you start to protest, your voice a shaky whisper, but she silences you with another kiss, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your face.

“They’re none the wiser,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “Now, let me have you for just a moment.”

Before you can respond, Agatha’s hands drift lower, deftly removing anything on your bottom half that will get in the way of her goal and letting the fabric fall to the tiled floor. Her gaze darkens as she sinks to her knees in front of you, her palms sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, full of lust and mischief, as she leans in closer. “Dripping everywhere,” she murmurs, her voice husky and teasing, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Just like the first time we were in a bathroom together. Seems I have a knack for this, don’t I?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her words hang in the air, her presence between your legs sending a surge of electricity through you.

It might be Thanksgiving, but your body feels like the Fourth of July when she drags her tongue from your entrance to your clit. She sucks it into her mouth and flicks lightly with the tip of her tongue before releasing it and going back to push her tongue inside you. The woman is on a mission and wastes no time in bringing you close to your climax in record time.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, not willing to risk you letting the whole street know that you’re going to cum, and then, with a final flick of her tongue, you’re glad she did because the orgasm hits you like a fucking 18-wheeler truck, your legs start to shake, and you have to grip on to the sink to stop yourself from collapsing.

Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as the world tilts back into focus, your body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Agatha stands, her movements unhurried and precise as she grabs a tissue and delicately wipes the corner of her mouth, her expression one of calm satisfaction.

"Still as sweet as I remember," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing as she crumples the tissue and tosses it into the small trash can by the sink.

You blink at her, still clinging to the edge of the sink for balance, your legs shaky and your mind a hazy blur of aftershocks. Agatha’s hands are steady as she helps you straighten your clothes, her touch lingering just a moment too long, her fingers grazing the small of your back before she steps away.

She smooths the fresh top you fetched for her, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. You can’t help but marvel at her composure, especially when you feel like you’ve just been turned inside out.

Agatha turns back to you, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips as she gives your ass a light pat. “Go on, darling,” she says, her tone playful but firm. “Head back out there before they start to wonder. I’ll be right behind you.”

You swallow hard, willing your legs to cooperate, and make your way back to the dining room, still trying to regain your composure.

The two of you return to the dining room during dessert, the scent of sweet pies and coffee wafting in the air. Agatha looks completely composed now, her clean top fitting snugly as she takes her seat next to you. She even stops for a moment to dab a napkin at the corner of her mouth—the perfect picture of elegance considering she was wiping away the last remnants of your cum. You, however, can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you settle down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze too directly.

From the other side of the table, Rio watches the two of you with a smirk that’s far too knowing for comfort. She raises her glass in a small toast, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement before she takes a slow sip.

“So,” she says casually, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with mischief, “did the mess get sorted out?”

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, shooting her a calm, collected smile. “All taken care of. They were very helpful.” She says, draping an arm around the back of your chair.

Your mother beams, none the wiser. “Well, that’s sweet. Always good to know you’ve got a helping hand.”

Rio stifles a laugh behind her hand, her eyes meeting yours briefly. The heat simmering beneath your skin refuses to let up, and you can only hope that dessert wraps up soon—before someone else catches on.

-----

"we could’ve just let them in with the spare key"

*humming* it was Agatha all along

⚠️Remember⚠️validation saves lives (this fic dies when I believe nobody likes it anymore because I have imposter syndrome)

READ PART 4

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taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @4theluvofsapphos

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rinhaler · 8 months ago

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aaaaa my brother is putting my new desk chair up for me tomorrow I’m so happyyyyyy 🥹🥹

#🧚🏽‍♀️ — luxe chit chat #good morning ppl <3 #i feel like I’ve just hit the biggest creative block idk why #gonna move some stuff from my old blog over here soon so #it’s something yk #I do have fic ideas I’m just a bit overwhelmed rn #anyway hope ur all good :3 #I’m meeting up with my bestie today we r gonna get food #n gonna see if I can find any cute decorations for my desk #excitedddddd I hope I get some cute stuff

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themultifanshipper · 5 months ago

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i will pay GOOD MONEY to read this bro

https://www.tumblr.com/themultifanshipper/756785500347580416/4-way-eiffel-tower

You hadn't been in the paddock for several months, being too busy with your career, and the drivers were starting to get antsy about your return.

But who would be good enough to have a go at you was anybody's guess as the Hungarian Grand Prix weekend got underway.

Warnings: Kinda paddock bunny vibes, but reader more in control, smut, brief stuff with Lando and Charles, slightly creepy/predatory behaviour (but everything is consensual), hand job, oral, PinV, PinA, anal, like 3 lines of dirty talk, aftercare, eeeeh idk what else

Part 1 of One of The Boys

Max was the first to spot you on Friday morning, you were chatting with some of the formula 3 drivers who were getting ready for their practice session.

He wrapped you in a big hug from behind and lifted you up.

“I know it's been a while but these guys are a bit young for you aren't they?” he said teasingly and you slapped his arm, giggling as he put you down.

“Don’t worry, I already have my hands full with you lot. They'll get their turn if they get into formula 1”

You walked with him on his way towards the redbull hospitality.

“Yeah?” he smirked “Speaking of, what's my prize going to be when I inevitably win on Sunday?”

You laughed at him.

“Given how your car's been performing lately I'm not sure your cockiness is justified”

He gasped and put a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“How dare you doubt my talents?”

“It's not 2023 anymore Max, you can't have me all to yourself. You need to learn to share…” you smiled at him devilishly “And for your information, I won't be giving a prize to the winner anyway, so it's anyone's game”

You winked conspiratorially and sauntered off leaving Max on his own to wonder what on earth you meant by that.

The next person you saw was Lando, that very afternoon. And word had obviously traveled fast.

“A little birdy told me you weren't interested in podium sitters this weekend…” he hooked his arm over your shoulder and pressed a kiss to you cheek in greeting “So what's a man gotta do around here to get you to himself?”

He deepened his voice seductively , but it just served to make you laugh at him, given the number of times you'd heard high pitched whines come out of his mouth during your… celebratory activities.

“Well, hello to you too Lando, how was your week?” you teased and he almost looked guilty for a second, before grinning and hugging you tight.

“I missed you in Miami, so I think you owe me something for my first win, no?” he smirked and walked you over to a secluded corner between two garages.

You rolled your eyes at him, amused by his impatience.

He crowded you against the wall and your hands went to pull him closer by his belt loops, so his hips were flush against yours. He gasped and his hips bucked involuntarily at the action.

You laughed “Come here you horndog” and he crashed his lips to yours in a desperate, messy kiss. His lips came to part yours immediately. He hadn't tasted you for so long it took him seconds to get hard.

Your hand made it inside his pants and he whined and rutted against your hand as his head went to the crook of your neck. He was breathing hard and you could almost feel him trembling in your hold.

This was going to be the quickest handjob of your life.

And he never did manage to ask about Sunday's prize.

…

A few hours later, in the car park, you were cornered by none other than Charles Leclerc.

“Hello” He murmured in your ear and you jumped at the sudden presence behind you.

You turned around quickly and he pressed you against your car to hug you.

“Hello Charles, how are you?” you said while Charles tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Horny” he answered immediately with a smile.

You laughed and he put his hands either side of you, caging you in.

“I can wait until I win on Sunday of course, but I've been told you have something else in mind”

He raised an eyebrow in question and you sighed.

“I'm not telling you what it is Charles”

He nodded solemnly “In that case…” he swiftly opened the back door of your car and pushed you inside, climbed in and closed it behind him.

“I think you owe me a little something for my Home win in Monaco, don't you think?” He wiggled his eyebrows but you just scoffed. “Come on princess, I want to taste you. It's been so long” he whined.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Well if you weren't going to be doing any work… might as well enjoy a treat for once.

You smirked at him and he grinned, spreading your legs and lifting your dress…

This was going to be a long weekend.

You managed to mostly avoid the drivers’ advances on Saturday, them being pretty busy with prep and qualifying and sticking around the feeder series drivers.

You hadn't even checked the group chat you'd been added to, you assumed it would just be full of questions about Sunday so you steered clear. Your plans would be revealed soon enough.

Sunday morning you arrived bright and early, catching Carlos on your way in and told him to spread the word with the others:

To shake things up a bit, and to celebrate you returning from your lengthy leave of absence, you would be rewarding the top 3 fastest laps of the race, regardless of the placement in the standings.

As you watched the race unfold you were getting more and more excited. The fastest laps were getting passed around like a football, and you were looking forward to potentially getting to have some fresh blood.

And you were right. The fresh blood came in the form of Logan Sargeant. You hadn't been able to spend a night with him yet, him never having gotten a podium.

After the race you sent a message in the group chat:

‘Congratulations to George, Logan and Max! (And Oscar of course 😘)

The three of you are welcome to stop by my hotel room (306 at the hilton, Lando don't you dare) and you need to decide between yourselves about the order etc etc… I'll be waiting ;)’

After a quick shower and a quick meal you lay on your bed and checked your messages.

There was just one from George.

‘we'll be there at 7:30’

Oh…

They were all coming together. (pun intended)

Interesting…

You imagined what it would be like. Would they take turns with you? George or Max showing Logan how to handle you. Fucking you into the mattress while he sat in the chair and watched, waiting for his turn.

Or maybe two of them would fill you up while the other ran his hands and mouth all over your body.

Would any of them be into touching each other? You knew Max and George were closer than what they revealed to the public, and that they had hooked up, but would you get to see it?

You imagined what Logan could be like… Was he inexperienced? Did he fuck like a pro?

All these questions were swirling around your mind when a knock at the door interrupted you. A spark of arousal shot through you and you hurried to go and open it.

Max was leaning against the frame, George stood behind him, smirking, and Logan was leaning against the opposite wall, looking cool as a cucumber as his eyes roamed your figure.

“Come on in boys” you said cheerfully, stepping aside to let them through before closing the door and sitting yourself on the bed in front of them.

“So what’s the plan, Max?” you said mischievously “You going to show these guys how it's done? Or is George going to come and claim his prize for Austria?”

George chuckled.

“Actually, we're going to fill you up.”

You frowned at him in question. “Fill me up?”

“You've got 3 holes for a reason, right?”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

“Fuck, okay…”

You found yourself bent over the bed, Max's mouth on your cunt and his fingers in your ass, stretching you out for him.

George's cock was in your mouth, and your hand was wrapped around Logan, pumping him at a leisurely pace.

Once you had come from Max's expert fingers and mouth, he deemed you ready and you were repositioned to their liking.

You straddled Logan, Max behind you, and George in front of you.

Pulling Logan into a sloppy kiss, you sank down on him slowly. Your heat enveloped him and he moaned into your mouth as you ground your hips down on him.

You felt Max's presence behind you and he pushed you and Logan to lay down. He positioned himself at your entrance and stroked your flesh tenderly.

“You ready, baby?”

You nodded and he wasted no time pushing the tip in.

You moaned, he was pretty big, and Logan was already filling you up nicely.

He pushed in slowly, and with every inch your moans increased in pitch.

Logan could feel you fluttering around him and it was driving him crazy, choosing to distract himself, and you, by sucking marks into your neck.

Once Max was fully inside, George came forward and stroked your cheek.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You felt so full you didn't quite know how to respond, overwhelmed by the feeling of the two men inside you.

But when they started moving it was a whole different ball park.

The drag of two cocks against your walls was sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body, it was indescribable.

They didn't have the same rhythm so sometimes one pushed in while the other dragged out, but when both of them pushed in together you swore loudly as they nudged every single one of your sweet spots.

George wrapped a hand in your hair and you looked up at him, already fucked out of your mind.

“Mind if I use your mouth, love?”

He asked with a sweet smile.

You grinned at him and stuck your tongue out.

“Good girl”

Being used by 3 of the fittest men on the planet was exhausting, but incredibly rewarding, as you felt your orgasm creep up on you.

You moaned around George and he pulled out to let you breathe.

Max piped up.

“You getting close, baby?”

You whined out a yes before grabbing George's hips and shoving your mouth back on him, the weight of his cock a grounding presence to counter the white hot pleasure coursing through your body.

“Good, because we're close too, we're going to fill you up. Right guys?”

George hummed and stroked your tear stained cheeks. “And you're going to be a good girl and swallow it all, yes?”

You hummed around him, and then Logan spoke for the first time since he'd walked in the room.

“Gonna fill this sweet pussy full of my cum, baby. You like being full of cum? You like being used like a slut by your friends?”

The shock of his voice in your ear sent a shockwave through you and you came on the spot, creaming around Logan and spasming around Max. They both came inside you with a groan after a couple of rough thrusts and stayed there while you came down.

George wasn't far behind and you swallowed all of him as his come filled your mouth.

The aftercare was amazing. George and Logan accompanied you in the shower, one washing your hair while the other scrubbed your body clean of sweat and leaked come.

Max changed the sheets (he called room service for clean ones) and then went in the shower once you were done.

You went to sleep with the three of them huddled around you, their hands wandering over your flesh affectionately.

You always took care of your boys, and they always took care of you.

#my thots #george thots #max thots #logan thots #george russell #george russell smut #george russell x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant smut #f1 #formula 1 #ask #request #one of the boys

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spideyheart · 2 years ago

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not for us

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

summary: miguel o’hara found the face of the woman he had loved (and lost) in his office, donning a spider suit with a warm cup of coffee in hand for him. he knew there were no second chances, not for the both of you. still, he couldn’t help longing.

warning: a shit ton of angst… i just cannot let this man be happy, can i? death of loved ones (an alternate you and gabi).

note: fun fact! i wrote this feverishly under my covers at 1 am. enjoy while we wait for me to finish ripping my hair out over chapter two of my miguel series <3

miguel o’hara masterlist. | gif credit. | ao3 mirror.

You were dead. Miguel knew this.

When he looked up and saw you, smiling with a warm cup of coffee in your outstretched hand, he thought he had been hallucinating.

He thought that maybe Lyla had been right— his lack of sleep and refusal to take care of himself for the sake of work finally caught up to him, but no.

You were real.

Standing there, donning the same spider emblem so many others did. His weary eyes traced over your face, taking in every detail his worn out state allowed for him to. He felt almost selfish for the first thought that came to mind.

You looked as beautiful as the day he lost you.

His heart lodged up in his throat and his eyes stung with tears as he heard the sound of a slight laugh fall from your lips.

“Well, are you gonna take the coffee or what?”

He swallowed quickly, picking his head up off of the desk he had fallen asleep on in a flash. Instinctively, he stood up straighter and brushed back his hair, some part of him still wanting to look good for you.

Miguel grabbed the coffee from you with a tentative hand, almost afraid that if he touched you, you would fade to nothing.

(Just as you had a year ago.)

He had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of his office. If it had been any brighter, he was sure you would be able to see the way his eyes glassed over, as you spoke, filling to the very brim with solemn pain.

“I’m Y/n,” You smiled, tilting your head to the side.

He almost flinched. He knew that.

“Y/n L/n.”

His chest squeezed. It had been O’Hara, once.

“Peter B. recruited me this morning and I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Of course he did. Miguel made a mental note to have a chat with his least favorite Peter Parker.

At his lack of a response, you fiddled nervously with your hands. “Um, anyway, I’ve heard that you’re a huge workaholic. I mean, you’re the one who started this whole thing, right? I just… thought you could use a little pick me up.”

You gave him a smile so warm it burned.

His face shifted with an expression that was unreadable. Too many feelings were festering inside of him. Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too many unspoken words.

His voice came out gruff. “Thanks.”

(He didn’t mean for it to.)

The smile didn’t leave your face as you nodded, taking backwards steps out of his office. “Of course, anytime. Take care of yourself, Miguel. It was nice meeting you.”

His door clicked shut and Miguel fell to his knees.

You were lying. Probably. Most likely.

The only word he said to you was thanks, that too in the least thankful voice he could have ever mustered. (God, he was an idiot, wasn’t he?)

Still, your answer was typical of your character.

You were a kind person. Someone that always sought to see below what met the eye.

You had also always been a caring figure. One that doted, poured love onto whomever you could, even in the smallest of ways.

You had been that way with Gabi— gentle hands, a guiding voice. And you had been that way with him in a way, too.

Slipping him snacks in his work bag, knowing his habit of forgetting meals. Pulling blankets over his slumped form if he ever fell asleep at his desk, knowing his tendency to drown himself in work. Giving him all the kindness you could offer, reminding him of how much you loved him, knowing his self-doubtful ways.

You were being that way now, bringing him coffee at even hearing that he overworked himself. You didn’t even know him… and yet…

Miguel’s heart felt like it was being crushed and he swallowed back a sob, eyes squeezing shut.

Seeing you alive and well was all he wished for, but he hadn’t thought about the pain that came with knowing that he could never show up at your doorstep, begging for forgiveness for what he had done to you. To Gabi. To your world.

Because you weren’t his. This version of you didn’t love him, didn’t even know him.

(He supposed the other version of you didn’t exactly love him, either.)

“Lyla,”

His voice came out choked. He placed himself in front of his monitors almost robotically, hands moving absentmindedly to pull up and replay the same old home videos he tortured himself with for hours on end.

“Send out a message that I am not to be disturbed.”

𓂅

It had been an odd few months.

Miguel had spent more time with this… alternate you than he wanted, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was partially his fault.

He had made himself promise after promise, swearing to stay away from you— but you…

You were magnetic.

He was drawn to you the way planets and moons were drawn into their orbits — by a force so fundamental there was nothing that could be done to help it.

In the many missions he went on with you and in the small moments he had spent with you back at the society’s Headquarters, he had observed that you were different.

This version of you had a body that was littered with small scars, eyes that carried the certain pain that every version of Spiderman knew.

You were different, but so eerily the same.

You still laughed the way he remembered, with your whole heart, nose crinkling and eyes screwing shut. You still worried the same, always rounding into his office some way to another to check up on him. You made the same jokes, seemed to love the same things.

If anything, the small changes this new version of you possessed made him fall even more in love with you.

(He hadn’t thought that was even possible.)

Miguel had always known you were strong. But seeing that this version of you had remained softhearted — despite the many, many hardships that could have turned anyone bitter — attested to that trait even further. You were more resilient and kind than he had thought you were, and he adored you even more for it.

With the you that he had loved, he had known every nook. Every cranny. He had memorized every curve, every dip, every single part of you.

He had seen and touched and loved it all wholly, and now, some sick part of him was itching to do the same once again.

Miguel wanted to trace your scars, hear where they came from. He wanted to see every new part of you that was unfamiliar to him now, wanted to know if you still like being held the same, if your hair still smelled of lingering jasmine shampoo.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this. It was wrong. He knew it. You weren’t for him, not in this universe or any universe.

Because even the you that he had grown to love wasn’t meant to be his. He wasn’t the man that had raised your daughter, the man that had married you.

Still, what was more human than longing for what you cannot have? He had to remind himself over and over that he had tried that once.

He had reached for a happiness that was not written out for him. And the consequences…

His mind drifted to you. To Gabi.

To the way you had been close enough to touch, the way his beloved daughter had been in his arms. To the way you had both been so close and then gone like you were never there in the first place.

…The consequences had been devastating.

He would not make the same selfish mistake again. No, he wouldn’t. Happiness wasn’t for everyone, and he would force himself to live with that.

(Even if it hurt. Even if he longed for nothing more than you, you, you.)

𓂅

The mission had gone spectacularly downhill, and Miguel was in worse shape than he had ever been.

His body ached, but he bit back the pain.

He clumsily patched himself up and forced himself to carry on.

Miguel was in his office as he usually was, hunched over his monitors when you barged into the room.

“Miguel!” your voice was panicked as you made your way up to him. “Shit, shit, shit, I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

Your eyes were wide, swimming with worry, and Miguel had to force his gaze back to his screens.

“I am alive, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant, I-” You let out a frustrated breath. “God, Jess told me you were almost killed and now you’re just… on your computer again!?”

“I have to file a mission report.”

“Nope. Not now.”

Before Miguel would even process your words, your hands were already looping around his arm, pulling him away from his work with all the strength your smaller frame could muster.

“You are going to rest. Now. Where is your room, do you have a bed here? Take me there, now.”

Being a man of his size and strength, Miguel could have easily resisted your pulling, but some small part of him wanted this.

(He missed being cared for. He missed your hands on his skin. He missed you and he hated himself for it.)

“Why are you doing this, Y/n. It’s the middle of the night, you should be at home.”

“And you shouldn’t?”

Fair point. That silenced him.

You stopped in your tracks, heaving in small breaths before turning to him. “C’mon now. Open a portal into your room. You need a bed and a good night’s sleep for once.”

If this were anyone else, he would have told them to get lost. Go home. Crawl back to whatever universe they had come from, but it was you.

Miguel swallowed thickly and did as you asked.

He could almost hear Lyla’s snickering. Hear the teasing remarks she would always pester him with about how down bad he was.

(You made a comment once about how the cafeteria should serve Spiderman themed burgers, so he discreetly made it happen. You said something about how you liked his webbed cape, so he made sure to always put it to use if you were around. You could probably ask for the sun as a joke one day and he just might be lovesick enough to give the impossible task a try.)

He could also hear her reminder that it was incredibly unhealthy for him to let this version of you be a temporary filler for the hole left in his heart after he lost the woman he had loved.

(The woman he was never meant to have.)

Still. He had opened the portal. Betrayed his promises to himself yet again and let you take him by the hand into his room.

His bedroom looked untouched. In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep here, so it made sense.

You walked over to his bed, pulling Miguel with a small hand around his wrist, and stopped to point to the bed with a stern finger. “Change into some pajamas. Then get yourself here.”

The man grumbled, face flushing as he trudged over to his closet to grab a snug fitting cotton t-shirt and a pair of sweats. He flicked the light on in his small bedroom bathroom and went in to change.

When he came back, pajamas and all, you were sitting on his bed, having drawn his covers back.

You caught sight of him and bolted up with a smile.

“You look nice! Er, comfortable, I mean.”

Miguel felt his heart flutter. (Was it stupid that you still had that effect on him? Probably.)

You cleared your throat and laughed nervously before giving his bed a small pat. “Sleepy time.”

Miguel didn’t know why the action felt embarrassing, why he suddenly felt shy.

He laid his head down on the soft expanse of his pillow stiffly, body rigid as he heard you shuffling around to pull up his covers.

You just about pulled them up to his shoulders when you took notice of how uncomfortable he looked.

“You look uneasy, is something the matter?”

“No.”

“Would you like a blanket instead? Or, or, a blanket with your covers?”

“No.”

“Is it too warm in here? Too cold?”

“No.”

“Did you clean yourself up right? Did you take meds for the pain?”

“No.”

“Aha! I knew it was something. You really have to start taking care of yourself, Miguel. Where do you keep your medicine? Oh! And do you have a nighttime version? It could help you sleep.”

Miguel let out a sigh, sitting himself up. He made a vague gesture towards a desk, one he hadn’t touched or used in months.

“There’s a drawer in that desk…”

“Perfect.”

You walked over, pulling the drawer out to rummage through the contents of it. “Shoot, looks like you’re out of pills. Guess you’ll have to settle for the liquid kind. Do you have a spoon?”

“Kitchen.”

“Which is… where?”

He forgot. You didn’t live with him, you didn’t know this home.

“If you open the door here and, uh, walk right.”

“Okay,” You nodded, giving him a soft smile before walking out. “be back in a sec.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned quietly to himself as soon as you were out of earshot. Dios, he felt stupid. How could he forget?

Maybe you were right, maybe he did need to start taking care of himself. His head felt foggy. His back was tight, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

You returned with a spoon in hand, clicking his bedroom door shut as you walked towards him.

“I don’t want to spill any, so I’m just gonna…”

You were in front of him, pouring the medicine into the spoon, and then your hand was on his shoulder, steadying yourself so you don’t let it spill.

He was sure he’d scold himself in the morning for what he was doing, but just for now… just this once… he let himself melt into your touch.

His muscles visibly relaxed as he downed the tart tasting liquid. He let out a sigh as you pulled the spoon back from his lips. (Hand still on his shoulder, he noted.)

You bit your lip, brows knitting together as your eyes traced over his face. “I’m serious, Miguel, you need to start letting yourself rest.” You gave his shoulder a small squeeze and his heart was beating so hard he could hear it thumping in his ears. “Work is important, but so are you, okay?”

In that moment, Miguel almost felt like you loved him, like you were the woman who had been his wife.

Maybe if you stayed one night, if you curled up beside him and let him hug you from behind just this once, you could love him again, you could be his the way he would always be yours and the two of you could be happy.

Stay,

He wanted to say.

Please, stay.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to.

There were no second chances, not for the both of you.

Instead, he let himself say the things he so badly wanted you to hear in a way you wouldn’t understand.

“Perdóname, querida.” His voice was a mumble, barely above a whisper. “Te decepcioné, lo siento mucho, cariño.”

“S-Sorry, I don’t know much Spanish.” Your voice was almost self-conscious.

He gave you a small, tired smile. Eyes fond as they met yours. “Thank you.”

His voice was soft, almost gentle. He said it in a way that actually sounded thankful, this time.

You smiled and retracted your hand from his shoulder, assuming that those two words were what he had said to you in his native tongue.

“I said anytime, remember? You don’t have to thank me.”

You walked over to his desk and set down both the spoon and medicine bottle on its surface, sparing him one last look up and down before fiddling with the device around your wrist, opening up a portal. You looked at him one last time before swinging back into your dimension.

“Good night, Miguel.”

And just like that, you were gone. His room was once again cold, devoid of your warmth, and he was once again alone.

Miguel let himself fall back onto his bed. Limbs heavy, heart heavier.

He shut his eyes, and just as he always did whenever he let himself drift off into a rare slumber, he dreamt of Gabi.

And he dreamt of you.

translations. please note that i do not speak spanish! i found these translations and words using the internet. if there are any errors, please please let me know! <3

Dios (God) , Perdóname (Forgive me) , querida (beloved or darling) , Te decepcioné (I let you down) , lo siento mucho (I am so sorry) , cariño (darling, dear, or honey)

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bagofshinyrocks · 1 year ago

Text

Giant Dinosaur

Prompt: For Christmas, you buy your man the giant dinosaur from Kohl's. [Requested by @airghostlyfox]

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: profanity; gaz is ooc but it all felt repetitive

A/N: not super proud of this one, but i hope y'all enjoy it anyway because i thought it was fun :-)

He.

John Price

It was hard to hide a dinosaur plushy that big. But there was a linen closet you only kept tablecloths and spare towels in, and now a very smooshed dinosaur crammed into the top.

Christmas morning, you wriggled free of John’s death grip on you, muttering something about needing to pee. A few minutes later you slipped back into his arms and kissed him good morning.

He smiled sleepily and nuzzled his face into your neck. “Morning,” he purred, beard tickling you a little.

“Morning, baby. Santa left you something.”

He opened his eyes a little more and looked around. Lurking right behind him, spooning him, was the giant dinosaur.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

John jerked and punched the thing across the room.

“John! What is wrong with you?” You were halfway out of bed to go grab the thing before he tugged you back into his chest and pulled the blankets up again.

“Too early for presents, luvie. Not until 9 AM. Need more kisses.”

You didn’t have any real desire to protest with your lover’s mouth already against yours and his arms squeezing you close.

The dinosaur lay on the floor for a while, before John finally allowed him to sit on the bed during the day. Though that bad boy would get punted once it was time for bed. Poor guy :-(

Simon Riley

He found it before Christmas morning. On the hunt in the guest bathroom for some spare shaving cream containers, he pulled aside the shower curtain and hollered.

You came running from the bedroom.

“Simon! Simon, what’s wrong?”

You collided into him as he came out of the bathroom. Strong hands gripped your shoulders and he took a deep breath.

“Why is there a giant fuckin’ stuffed Grinch in the shower?”

You blinked. Then groaned in defeat.

“Aw, damn.” You squeezed past him and plucked the stuffie up. “He’s a dinosaur, Simon.” A little scratch to the plushie’s chin. “And part of your Christmas present.”

“No.”

“It’s only part of your present, Si. You’ve got other goodies waiting.”

He took it from you and gave it a shake. Nothing inside made a noise, so he started squeezing its limbs, its stomach, its face. You looked on, smiling. That wasn’t the usual way of playing with a stuffed animal, but it’s cute.

You must have said that last bit aloud because he fixed you with a withering glare and suddenly you had a mouthful of dinosaur fluff.

Kyle Garrick

Kyle got home the morning of Christmas Day. Well, technically morning, as it was 3 AM.

You picked him up at the airport and welcomed him with a bear hug and several kisses. He was exhausted. Eyes barely open, face buried into your neck. If he were still a little kid, you would have carried him and strapped him into his car seat.

You walked arm-in-arm back to the car, chatting about your plans for the afternoon, all the food you’ve been making, and that Santa had already dropped off his presents.

“Oh, boy, I can’t wait to see what I got.”

“I brought part of it with me.”

Kyle grinned and immediately tugged at the waist band of your clothes, seeing if your undergarments were the present. You scoffed and gave his nose a gentle flick.

You opened the trunk of the car and helped him load his gear in. Sitting in the passenger seat, he saw a large, fluffy, green shape.

“Wha’s that?”

“For you!”

He all but skipped to the passenger seat and laughed at the dinosaur strapped in. Unclicked the seatbelt, scooped him up, and traded spots. You sat in the driver’s seat and gladly accepted all the happy kisses he gave you.

“Thank you, baby, this is very sweet.”

The first ten minutes of the drive home was filled with him saying thank you and leaning over to give you a kiss.

The rest of it was him sleeping on the dinosaur, quiet snores and the same death grip he gave you around the mass of green fluff.

Johnny MacTavish

Johnny burst out laughing when he looked at the mass of wrapping paper next to the tree.

“Steamin’ bloody- What the shit?”

You tried so hard not to laugh as you told him to go ahead and open it. He tore it open like the dinosaur was suffocating and smacked it on the ground. Chest compressions, mouth-to-mouth. Then slapping its face and begging it to wake up.

You may have peed yourself a little bit at his shennanigans.

And it got so much worse, as he decided the giant dinosaur was a punching bag or sparring mannequin. He called it “Boss” and treated him like his number one enemy.

Whenever you put Boss on the couch, Johnny would take a running start and body slam it off. Tuck Boss into bed, and he’d driving-elbow-drop on the motherfucker and the bounce would almost launch you off the mattress. The dino never fought back, but you sure did.

“Fucking launch me like that again, I dare you.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You will be living in the barracks and Boss will get your side of the bed and the sink.”He took more care in reducing collateral damage when attacking Boss, and you got really good at repairing that dinosaur. You didn’t want Johnny to know he was being too rough. Or for him to stop. It was Penelope and her shroud, you and that stupid fucking dinosaur.

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2024 January 2

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